


Open up

by statuscrows



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Dream Sex, F/F, Mutual Pining, Sexy Leitner Week (The Magnus Archives), Unrequited, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29385888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/statuscrows/pseuds/statuscrows
Summary: Daisy gets relationship advice from a thrift store book.
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Open up

**Author's Note:**

> this is hella late for sexy leitner week, early for valentines, but right on time for femslash february i guess? the prompt was “bite” unsurprisingly

Once, a lifetime ago, Daisy came back to the precinct after burying a wife-beater a few feet underground, and asked Basira if she wanted to come back to her place. Her blood had been singing in her ears, and her heart was racing. That's what she blamed it on now, instead of the way a part of her always seemed to crave Basira, like a buzzing in her ear that only ever faded into ignorable background noise.

"What for?" Basira had asked, in the middle of packing her bag. Her button up was just a tad too tight for her chest and Daisy didn't care enough to stop herself from staring. There was still dirt under her nails and she could smell the damp of fear sweat from the man she'd killed.

"For whatever," Daisy had told her straight out. She sat down on Basira's desk, blocking her path. She watched Basira put on her jacket and felt the Hunt sharpening her senses, drawing her attention to the coffee on Basira's breath, the gentle flutter of the pulse in her neck, calm and unaware she was being pursued.

Basira had scoffed and shouldered her way past. "Unlike you _I've_ got a shift tomorrow," she said. "Get drunk on your own time."

Daisy's skin had inched as she watched Basira go, restless energy begging to be released, but she'd done nothing but watch and bite the inside of her cheek until it bled.

She's at a thrift store, picking up some extra shirts so she doesn't have to return to her own apartment or borrow any more of Basira's, when she sees it. She hadn't planned on going anywhere near the books but it catches her eyes when she's looking around, though she isn't sure why. Before she has time to think she's standing in front of it and removing the book from the shelf.

It’s black and hardcover, which may be why it draws her among the soft, bright harlequin romance novels around it. The title reads _The Book of Teeth._

Daisy isn't much of a reader. She decides to put the book back.

She opens it. The spine gives a satisfying creak in her hands as though its never been opened. The page she lands on is somewhere in the middle of the book, at the start of a new chapter. She reads the words Chapter 12 but her eyes slide over the symbol under those words without registering them. By the time she realizes that she’s already turned the page.

 _How wonderful it must’ve been for ***** to realize she was in love_ ; the first sentence reads.

Daisy blinks at the page. There's a word, a name she thinks, that she can't focus on. Her eyes move on to the next sentence without any conscious effort on her part.

_Her instinct has never changed. As a child she would develop crushes on those beyond her reach. Teachers much older than her, a neighbor with a boyfriend, a classmate with straight A's who called herself ‘boy crazy’. She would watch them, unseen and feel strange stirrings that she was too young to understand. A need to grasp similar to feelings she might experience walk past a toy store. Only not. Hungrier._

"The fuck," Daisy mumbles. The image of the child the book is painting sounds familiar.

_When she grew older and the shyness of early childhood left, she began to pursue the objects of her affection, performing seduction as she saw it on television. But if those who'd caught her eyes returned her interest her feelings would vanish all at once. Such a strange child. So young but already marked, already starving for the chase but uninterested in what she caught._

_It would be a long time before she found prey worthy of being chased. A woman more satisfying than the quick hunt of buying someone drinks at a bar or saying the right thing over texts. Yes, her partner was something else entirely. How strange to see the world as a place of beauty for the first time! How good to be capable of something so wonderful. Something as normal as genuine love._

Daisy swallows and tries to put the book down. She turns the page instead.

_***** was, or rather is, a miserable creature, unthinking and cruel. Knowing this, she has nurtured the one good thing she has within her and the woman who gave it to her, even as its lack of actualization left her starving. Soon enough she will realize that she will never be complete while she lives this way. Something must be done._

_She's seen her love turn down other people and still she does nothing. She's seen her love allude to being attracted to women and still she does nothing. Sometimes ***** sits at her desk and fantasizes about shoving her love against the wall in front of everyone they work with and staking her claim like a lion biting into a carcass in front of a pack of hyenas. She never does, though she burns to._

_It was the Hunt that called to her and had sunken its fangs into her as a child. Its aspect demanded that she pursue, it demanded that she pursue the woman that she loved. So why didn't she? Why did she watch her partner walk each day unhunted when she could bring her the sweet taste of divinity so easily?_

"No," Daisy gasps quietly. “No. No way.”

_One night she'd followed her love home from work, just to watch her walk the streets at night. She'd stayed hidden among the dumpsters and the alleyways and the only person she'd ever loved had never noticed she was being followed. The chase made her pulse quicken the way it always did with the scum she usually directed her ire towards only this was different. To hunt someone she loved would be a pleasure unimaginable._

_And what of the catch? What of the moment when frantic quickened pursuit gives way to the triumph of surrender? What of the pulse beating at her neck, waiting for the kiss of teeth? She will not know she is loved otherwise. You shy away from the words so frequently. Forsake them and human tongues. When you are rending the flesh from her bones she will understand. What mortal love could ever top the fleshy commune of predator and prey?_

“Shut the fuck up,” Daisy says.

_Feel your teeth within your mouth. Run your tongue along the static teeth on the top half of your jaw, that familiar jagged semi-circle embedded in your skull. Do not shy away from the tickle you invoke when licking the smooth expanse behind your upper lip. Drag your tongue the other way. Not like that, slower. Yes, that’s better. Your molars are sharper than they should be, aren't they? Your cuspids are so long they cut the inside of your mouth. These are not the teeth of an omnivore. Move your tongue across your incisors and know how neatly they can tear flesh. Feel the bottom row of teeth. One of them is an implant. Or rather was. A new tooth is rising there, sharp and glorious._

_How many are there? Thirty-two? Count them again. Oh, how the pink of your gums ache with the new! Feel the sharp prickle of calcification rising from them, free and wild like pretty weeds blossoming in a mild winter. Rows of them, growing rapidly. You can no longer close your jaw because of their number. A shark might call you its kin._

_Can you feel your jaw stretching and cracking and growing? Open wider until the skin along your mouth splits and your new teeth burst out. This is your truest shape. You know this and you long to change. To become a creature of love and truth unbound by mortal laws or paralyzing indecision. We want this for you._

_Allow Basira to give it to you._

Daisy curses as the book finally falls from her hands. She grabs her face, feeling her lips and her jaw for rows of carnivorous teeth. There's nothing there. Her face is fine.

The book had fallen open when it hit the floor, landing on the first page of the chapter. Daisy stumbles away from it, nearly knocking over an elderly man's cart.

She can see the symbol now. It's a daisy.

Daisy leaves the store with the book tucked into her jacket, the clothing she'd planned to buy forgotten. She buys matches and lighter fluid and burns the book in an empty parking lot.

While she watches the book burn, Daisy finds herself poking at her teeth with her tongue. There's nothing sharper than normal in her mouth but she stops with her tongue pressed to one of her molars.

Normally she doesn't notice her dental implant. It's the same color as the rest of her teeth and doesn't give her any trouble. There's a very slight difference in texture to it however that makes it noticeable when she seeks it out. So she knows immediately.

There's a new tooth there in its place.

"This is a surprise," Elias says when she turns up in his cell an hour later.

"I fucked up,” Daisy says quickly. “I saw a-a book at the store and it called me and I couldn't stop myself from reading it. It was, fuck, the chapter I read was about _me_ , Bouchard. The thing knew all about me and it mentioned Basira by name.”

"Calm down, Alice,” Elias says. He sounds interested and just a little entertained which isn't doing much to calm Daisy down. “Where is this book now?"

"Burned it. It's a pile of ashes in a dumpster."

Elias sighs. "We don't generally do that at the Institute. Bad form to throw away knowledge."

"Well the thing was clearly fucking evil so you won't catch me apologizing!”

"Alright, alright. Nothing to be done about it at this point. What was the book called?"

"The Book of Teeth. Something like that."

Elias hums. "I'm not familiar with that one. But if I had to guess I’d say it was of The Flesh.”

“No shit.” Daisy runs a hand through her hair.

“What _specifically_ did the book say about you and Basira to get you so worked up?”

Daisy stops pacing. “What, can’t you tell? Look into my brain or whatever?”

"You mean know your thoughts and expose myself to the cursed words you read?" He puts a finger on his chin. "Hm, no. I think not."

“The book was..." Daisy realizes she's licking her teeth again and stops herself. "I think...I think the book was telling me to eat Basira.”

“Oh my," Elias says unsympathetically. "Any cannibalistic urges so far?”

“If I'd had any I'd be eating your smug little face right now."

Elias smiles a little. “Naturally. Do you feel different at all?”

“No, but I don’t want to risk being around her if this fucking book is going to turn me into some kind of tooth monster."

“Perfectly understandable." Elias sits down by his desk, turning away from her dismissively. Down the hall she hears one of the guards approaching. "I'm sure you'll be just fine. You shouldn't worry about being around Basira.”

"Oh, I don't trust that a single fucking bit," Daisy says.

The guard knocks. "Your time is up."

"It’s too bad you burned the book then, isn’t it?" Elias gives her a little wave, not bothering to turn around. "Say hi to Basira for me."

Daisy gets a hotel that night.

She's anxious and doesn't sleep well but nothing of note happens apart from that. Or the day after. Feeling superstitious she stays in the shitty hotel for one more night just because it's a full moon. There's still nothing. She feels perfectly normal.

Daisy lies in the hotel's bed, staring at the key to Basira's apartment she has on her keychain. She's had it for almost as long as they've been partners but until recently she'd never used it. Whenever she visited she'd always knocked first, never quite feeling as though she had a right to be inside Basira's space. Even now that they're cohabitating and Daisy spends most of her nights on Basira's couch it feels strange to open the door on her own and invite herself in. She wants to feel normal in Basira's space. Sometimes she does.

Other times, as was the case last week, Basira will do something innocent like walk to the kitchen in a towel so she can get a drink, and the itch of the Hunt that's grown so quiet within her since she escaped the coffin will thrum to life, reminding her of what she is.

Daisy pulls her pillow over her face. Checkout will be soon. She can't avoid Basira forever.

She waits near Basira's place, not so close that she can do anything if the Leitner really did screw with her brain, but close enough to see her from a distance. She tries not to think about the other times she's done similar things.

Basira leaves her apartment around eight in the morning. She doesn't look any different from normal and seeing her doesn't seem to awaken anything in Daisy, beyond the normal pang of longing that she's more than used to.

So that night she goes back to Basira's apartment.

It's a relief to be there—she doesn't enjoy being alone with herself these days—even if Basira isn't home yet. She steals some of Basira's leftovers, changes her clothes, and then heads straight for the couch.

She wakes up briefly when Basira returns but she pretends to be asleep when Basira stares at her from the doorway. Basira doesn't exactly tip toe around her apartment after that but she's clearly tired and goes to bed not long after she arrives. It isn't until Daisy hears her bedroom door shut that she finally starts to relax.

It's late when Basira's door opens again.

Daisy is awake and alert immediately, hearing too sharp to let herself become prey. She sits up in the dark. Outside the street is utterly silent. The digital clock on the microwave reads 2:45.

Basira is standing by her door, hair long and messy. Daisy's breath catches.

Basira is dressed the way she usually sleeps: in a loose shirt and panties. Her eyes look vaguely listless as she approaches and her footsteps are soft on the carpet. Daisy's voice catches in her throat.

"You don't want me," Basira says. She comes to a stop beside the couch and leans her knee on it. The blanket slips out from between them as though tugged away and pools on the floor. Daisy shivers.

"That's not true," she whispers.

Basira tilts her head and her shirt falls down her shoulder. "I'm not to your taste.”

"No," Daisy says, voice hoarse. She touches Basira's knee and when Basira doesn't shy away slides a hand up higher along her soft inner thigh, shuddering at each inch of Basira's flesh she’s being granted. "You _are_ my taste."

Basira leans over her. Her skin still smells sweet from her recent shower but Daisy can smell beyond that, to the growing slickness between her legs. Basira’s hair tickles her face as she leans in closer. Daisy can feel her mouth watering.

"You're a liar,” Basira says.

Daisy shakes her head. Her hands are unsteady as they move to Basira’s shoulders, hovering so close to her skin that she can feel the fine hair of her arms raise into goosebumps at her almost-touch.

"I crave you with every fiber of my being,” Daisy says.

Basira touches her mouth. "Show me.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Daisy says.

She surges upwards, grabbing Basira's hips and tugging her down into her lap. Basira settles over her with smooth, liquid grace, and Daisy's hands land on her hips, holding her steady. Basira is unmoving as Daisy presses her lips to hers, even as Daisy moans ecstatically into her mouth.

Daisy slides her hands up under Basira's shirt, along her waist and her back. She pulls Basira down until the other woman is bent over her and kisses her with feverish urgency. Basira remains unenthusiastic, eyes open and on her.

"Show me," Basira says against her lips.

Daisy groans and throws Basira's shirt aside, letting her hands roam across every inch of her that she's pretended not to notice in locker rooms for years. She pulls Basira closer again until the heat between their bodies feels like it might burn them both.

Basira’s expression remains flat even as Daisy kisses her neck. Despite her disinterest Daisy is panting, caught up in the smell of Basira all around her and the taste of her under her tongue. Her flesh is soft and yielding, as though its been waiting for Daisy’s touch. Maybe it has been. Maybe Daisy was a fool not to do this sooner.

“Daisy,” Basira says softly.

Daisy growls in response, face buried between Basira’s tits. But Basira sits back on her thighs lifting Daisy’s face in both of her hands.

“Tell me what you want,” Daisy pants, “anything. Whatever.”

“You already know,” she says, "show me. Show me how you really feel about me.”

Daisy turns her face under Basira's hand, breathing heavily into her palm. Basira’s thumb brushes gently against her nose.

Daisy opens her mouth around the soft flesh of her palm, and then bites down.

Basira gasps, a sweet, delighted noise steeped in pleasure. Daisy pulls her teeth free and licks at the crescent of holes along her hand, tasting the blood now rising to the surface of her skin.

The scent of blood makes the rest of her senses sharpen like they haven't in months. The Hunt is like a cloud of fog over her, indistinguishable from lust as it fills her. Now she can listen to the pounding of Basira’s heart in her chest, the shaking exhalation that leaves her lips almost silently. She can smell the renewed rush of slick in her panties.

Basira kisses the blood from her lips. There are tears in her eyes but Daisy knows they’re reverent and have nothing to do with pain.

"Would you eat me, Daisy?" she asks. "Would you show me how it feels to be loved?”

Daisy opens her mouth. Then she opens it wider. Basira's eyes are dark and fascinated as she watches the change. She traces her throat with the tips of her fingers. Teasing and enticing. Her chest heaves with her excited breaths.

Daisy accepts what she’s been offered, biting into the junction of Basira's shoulder and throat.

Basira groans in ecstasy, hands scrambling at Daisy's side and back as Daisy's mouth fills with the taste of meat and copper. Basira’s body is taut as she lifts herself into the press of Daisy’s teeth, encouraging her to tear deeper. Her thighs tighten around Daisy and Daisy knows she’s coming, can smell it in the air and knows it in her bones.

Daisy switches sides and bites again.

Basira gasps, throwing her head back and fisting a hand in Daisy’s hair. Her gasp turns into a moan as Daisy bites her again and then again, desperate and starving now that she’s had a single taste of Basira. The tearing of meat and scraping of teeth against bone is deafening but more beautiful than anything she’s ever heard. She can hear Basira encouraging her, voice an endless chant of _please please more Daisy_ and Daisy can do nothing but oblige her, tearing sweet mouthfuls of flesh from the woman she loves so she can swallow and start again, knowing Basira more closely than she ever has, feeling Basira slide down her throat in hot pieces while they both grow beautiful and bloodied.

“You love me!” Basira cries, body shaking as her pleasure crests once more. “Oh god, Daisy, you really do love me!”

She releases Basira from her teeth long enough to push her back onto the couch. Basira lies there while Daisy sinks between her thighs, a tapestry of gore, shaking and radiant with her affection.

Daisy’s tongue is longer than it should be but she doesn’t particularly care. They’re both drenched in Basira’s blood, warm and sticky and painting them the same color. She can’t tell where the slick of blood ends and the wetness of Basira’s cunt begins.

Daisy wants to say the words aloud but her mouth isn’t built for speech anymore. It doesn’t seem to matter to Basira who’s sobbing and pleading as she rolls her hips down into pointed teeth.

Words aren’t necessary anymore. Daisy closes her mouth around Basira’s cunt and knows she’s loved back.

In the morning she is alone, and the metal taste of blood is gone from her mouth.

Daisy stares at the ceiling, mind cold and devoid of thought. There’s no blood on her skin or her clothing or the couch. When she touches her tongue to her teeth they feel normal, smooth and no sharper than usual, though her new tooth is still there. Whatever happened the previous night she can feel, instinctively, that it’s over.

In the kitchen Basira’s coffee machine beeps and she startles.

“God,” Basira mumbles, “would it kill you to beep quieter? Ancient piece of shit.”

Daisy sits up slowly. Her body feels strangely heavy. 

Basira is standing in the kitchen, rinsing a mug in the sink. She’s wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt with her hair tied into a bun.

“I’d apologize for waking you but it’s like 10," Basira says. "You should’ve gotten your ass out of bed hours ago.”

Daisy stares at her.

“If you want a bagel your shit out of luck because I'm having the last one,"

“Yeah,” Daisy says quietly, meaninglessly.

“You alright?” Basira asks. Daisy watches her pour a second cup of coffee and add creamer to it—which she hates and only buys because Daisy is staying with her. “I’d tell you you look like you’ve seen a ghost but that’s pretty much our everyday now.”

Daisy nods, getting to her feet. Basira slides the coffee across the counter and lets her catch it. Basira doesn’t ask again. She won’t. She wouldn’t want Daisy fussing over her either and she won’t show anything that could be interpreted as pity or sympathy.

But there is a faint softness to Basira’s eyes. A quiet plea for Daisy to speak up. Daisy could say so many things to her.

“I’m fine,” she says instead. And Basira allows things to remain unspoken.


End file.
